Subtle Shining Sorceries
by Stolen Childe
Summary: Auror Harry Potter, finds himself handpicked for an interesting mission with his occasional partner Draco Malfoy. Across the ocean, they find themselves facing Sam and Dean Winchester who are after the same thing. Will they be able to work together?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author: **Stolen Childe

**Warnings: **Crossover, cursing, possible sexual situations, pre-slash, implied slash, eventual slash, Super!Power!Harry, Bottom!Harry, Poncy!Git!Malfoy, Auror!fic, angst, OCs (only bad guys), references to implied past child abuse

**Rating: **14A (R) for language and violence

**Pairing: **eventual Draco/Harry, references to past Harry/Ginny and past Draco/Astoria, implied Dean/Castiel

**Genre: **angst, adventure, mystery, romance

**Spoilers: **Harry Potter – Up to and including DH and Epilogue Compliant (yikes!). Supernatural - Season 1 – 6

**Timeline: **HP - 14 years post Final Battle – i.e. current year (2011). SPN – the summer between episode 22 of Season 6 and episode 1, season 7

**Characters: **Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

**Summary: **Harry Potter, Auror extraordinaire finds himself handpicked for an interesting mission with his occasional partner Draco Malfoy. One ocean hop later and Harry and Draco find them face to face with muggles, more familiar with the supernatural than either of them thought possible. Self proclaimed Hunters of the Supernatural Sam and Dean Winchester are after the same thing they are. Will it end in bloodshed or will the boys work together?

**Author's Notes: **All right, this is something I never thought I would do, I stopped writing crossovers (to post/publish) years ago but I just could not shake this from my mind. This is the first thing of any length I've written in a very long time so I'm not sure about the style. The POV does jump around more than I'd like, but I just go where the characters take me. Please enjoy! Comments would be greatly appreciated. Beta wanted if anyone is interested. Oh! And no, neither Harry nor Draco is related to the Winchester boys in anyway, it's not_ that_ sort of crossover. Harry and Draco are born in the year Rowling intended – 1980 which makes them a few years older than Sam.

**Edit: **2011-08-20 - A reviewer informed me of my bad math, so I changed the time it would take H and D to get to the US. Thanks to _cronbachsalpha!_

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**Prologue**

Gemmer Bean walked along the moonlit street. There was a light misty rain falling overhead that he looked up to admire for a moment. Walking in the rain, regardless of the hour always made one feel secluded within their own realm. Gemmer was whistling something jaunty and tuneless, swinging his cane back and forth as he walked when he heard something behind him and felt a tingle trickle over his skin. Gemmer spun around, flicking his cane once and the object seemed to shift and shimmer until it had been reduced to a wand. He held it up, a protective spell ready on his lips as he waited. He didn't have to wait long. Something shimmered into being before him, something dark and unpleasant. Gemmer gripped tighter on his wand and cursed his shaking hands. They hadn't really trained one for these situations at the Academy, it wasn't like this was England or anything. It was Massachusetts for Heaven's sake!

Before he could utter a word, a small gurgling gasp broke the stillness of the night, his back arched and he fell to his knees blood trickling from his mouth, wand abandoned at his side, the body of Gemmer Bean sprawled in death.

A young blond man, with sparkling eyes walked away, his face hidden in the shadows of the night. He whistled jauntily and tuneless as he went, giving the occasional little hop as he left the scene. Four down, five more to go.

_Three Days Later_

The greatest Wizard and Auror of his day, Harry Potter was currently on-route with Draco Malfoy, infamous and renowned Potion Prodigy and reformed Death Eater.

"Are you sure this in our jurisdiction? Don't the American's have their own people?" Malfoy asked, glaring around the train that was currently hurdling over the Atlantic Ocean at 500 kilometres an hour. Even at that speed it would still take them several hours to reach the Americas. Harry wondered why with all the wonder and amazement wizards could produce that they could never invent something that flew as fast as an airplane... Or was an airplane. Long distance Port Key was extremely draining and difficult to coordinate. The Ministry hadn't the time to get the authorization from the American authorities and Harry and Malfoy had to be alert and functioning when the landed. If the timeline was correct, they had about a month before whatever was happening, would happen.

"The Ameri-Magic Senate requested us specifically. Well they did have the Canadian Ministry for Magic forcing their hand a little, and you know the kind of influence the Canadian Wizarding Society holds over the American," Harry shrugged.

"But really Potter, couldn't your Ginger Weasel have tagged along instead? He is your partner after all," Malfoy huffed.

"_You_ and I were requested specifically. Ever since we helped the Canadians out with that Black Market Umbra Wolf smuggling ring, we've been fairly well known over there."

Malfoy sighed, "That was different. The Umbra Wolf paw is a highly specialized and very dark potion ingredient. Somewhat of my realm of expertise. This is the snatch and grab sort that you and your wilful weasel are more used to, being bloody rash Gryffindors after all."

"Yes, but these are very dark wizards. Just as you said, something of your realm of expertise," Harry shrugged. Malfoy glared at Potter.

Harry held up his hands defensively, "That wasn't meant to be a slight, Malfoy. Just the truth. You have more knowledge of this sort of magic than anyone left alive. It makes sense that they would request you."

Malfoy glared out the window watching the water streak by the window sparkling almost blindingly in the sunlight. He was silent for a moment, but only a moment.

"Blast. But why does it have to be the Bloody Republic, I hate the Republic," Malfoy sneered.

Harry looked nervous and uncomfortable, "I don't think they call it that anymore Malfoy."

"No matter, a rose by any other name would still poison a pixie," Malfoy commented.

Harry snorted in dry amusement, "Wow, even wizards bastardize Shakespeare."

"Muggles know about Shakespeare?" Malfoy looked genuinely shocked.

Harry blinked, "You're having me on, right?"

xXx

Sam Winchester looked up from the papers in his lap and over at his brother Dean behind the wheel. He had a dark brooding look on his face that he had been carrying for the last several months.

"You sure this is a good idea to deal with this gig? I mean what with Cas—"

Dean shot him a quelling glare and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Fine, what with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named to deal with don't you think there're other hunters that can handle a little cult?"

Dean muttered something about angels and smart-ass little brother and Sam was pretty sure there was an f-bomb in there somewhere that he hadn't quite caught but didn't worry about too much.

"I mean it is Salem. That's always been a hot spot," Sam continued.

"Exactly, Salem. Hot Spot," was Dean's response.

"I'm just not sure if we should be jumping ship right now Dean. We have more pressing things to worry about. We have to stop hi—"

"They're eating babies, Sam," Dean bit out, interrupting Sam before he could continue on the subject-they-don't-talk-about. Sam supposed he couldn't really blame Dean. There had always been a deeper connection between the angel and his brother that Sam just never understood. He supposed it was the fact that Castiel had always been Dean's guardian angel and there for him when Sam was going through his darker phase. But still, it wasn't like Dean to let his emotions interfere this much with the job, not since they lost Dad anyway. It sort of made Sam wonder if there was something deeper going on, aside from a nasty fight between the two just before Cas went Dark Side.

"Really Dean? Babies?" Sam gave his brother a look.

Dean shifted and looked away, "Well they could be. Besides, there aren't that many hunters left at the calibre needed to handle this. It's dark stuff, Sam, real dark. These aren't your garden variety witches. Salem's been a breeding ground ever since the witch trials. We're going."

"All right, all right," Sam conceded. He figured he'd give this one to Dean. If he wasn't ready to deal with Cas than he wasn't ready. Sam just hoped that he would be soon before anyone else got hurt.

**_TBC..._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.

**Author's Notes:** See previous parts for warnings.

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**Chapter One – Wherein Wizards get the drop on Winchesters...**

It took Sam and Dean Winchester just over a day to reach Salem and Sam felt the fission in the air as soon as he exited the safety of the Impala. Dean was glancing around, squinting in the sunlight. They were dressed in their black suits, posing once more as FBI Agents. Sam sighed and straightened his tie, shifting in his ill-fitting dress shoes. Comfortable ones weren't exactly in the woefully limited budget.

Dean wrinkled his nose, "Smell that?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Can't quite put my finger on it though. Almost sulphur but more..."

"Insidious?" Dean offered with a grin, knowing his word choice would throw his little brother.

"I gotta stop letting you download movies on my laptop," Sam shook his head. "But yeah, we'll go with insidious."

"Dude, I get bored," Dean replied. "Man, this place is crawling, isn't it?"

Sam knew Dean mean supernatural activity. Since their separate stints in Hell and various other hell-like stuff they put up with, Sam and Dean both had something of a sixth sense. They began to be able to sense the malignant energies in the air. Salem was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

"I just like to know _why_ Salem? Isn't that a little cliché? I mean really, is there no originality anymore?" Dean asked.

"Well, you know because of the history it's always been a hotspot. You said so yourself. Places like this hold onto evil, it gets in the soil, but yeah, I know what you mean. I suppose whatever this coven plans to do they need the blood and bone of past witches. Bobby's afraid they may be attempting to summon some Witch God or Goddess. The demons and monsters are afraid Dean, they're gathering reinforcements all over," Sam finished just before they entered the building. Sam pulled the glass door open for Dean and his brother went through.

They flashed their badges and lied their way in as usual and it wasn't long before a morgue assistant was coming down the hallway to escort the two men. He gave them a strange, almost calculating look as he approached dressed in typical green scrubs.

"I'm Ezekiel Gulch," the man held out a hand. He had a British Accent and Sam felt tingles dance over his palm as he shook the man's hand. He glanced over at Dean and the older Winchester indicated that he felt it too, Sam's guard went up, and Dean tensed beside him.

"Call me Zeke. Guess this is crossing state lines, yeah?" he asked over his shoulders. "To get you lads involved."

"We've had a similar case to this one previously, we're just confirming some details," Sam lied easily.

Zeke shrugged, "By all means. I'm afraid you'll only have a short while with the body. Some specialist are arriving soon and they'll need their privacy when the conduct their examination of the remains."

That caused more warning signals to flare in Sam's mind. Dean's as well as he shared one of their speaking glances with Sam.

"That right? Where from?" Dean asked casually.

The man smiled tightly behind him, "Can't say I'm afraid. This way gentleman." He went over to the wall, looking at the numbers before finding the one he was searching for and sliding out the slab.

"Here we are. Bean, Gemmer. I'd say take your time, but as I already said, we've specialists coming in so please don't dally," another tight smile and Zeke handed Sam the chart.

Sam held it up briefly in thanks. "Thank you," he added.

"Specialists, huh? What do you think that's about?" Dean asked darkly, once the man had left.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe more hunters?"

Dean gave him a look, "Sam, if it were more hunters we would have heard about it. You know that as well as I do."

"I dunno Dean. Let's just see if this really is our thing, shall we?" Sam unzipped the cadaver bag and pulled the black vinyl away. Dean looked away briefly, grimacing. Sam figured even after all this time, neither of them would get used to looking at freshly dead human remains. Perhaps that was a good thing.

As far as their cases went, this wasn't a terribly grisly affair; the man look relatively unharmed, except for a bluer than usual tinge to skin that would normally be waxy grey and an intensely cataract appearance to the eye. That and the bloody symbol carved into the man's skin over his heart. Sam had never seen it before; it looked like a stylized "M" at the top with an inverted cross descending from the "V" in the "letter," also stylized. Sam pulled out his iPhone and snapped a few pictures. Dean handed him swabs.

"The edges seem to have some sort of black ooze around them. Looks like ectoplasm," Dean remarked.

Sam leaned closer, "Yeah, also there's a silvery residue in the lines, looks like liquid." Sam took swaps of the skin around the wound, the black ooze and the silvery residue. He'd look into it when they got back to the motel.

"So? What do you think?" Dean asked, frowning over at his little brother.

"I don—"

Just then the door banged open and Zeke barrelled in brandishing a stick, he made a slashing motion and yelled something neither brother quite caught. Sam and Dean ducked reflexively. Dean was just reaching for his gun and Sam doing the same before Zeke went literally flying across the room and crashing into the metal drawers along the wall with a sickening crunch.

Sam and Dean glanced over to the doorway where two man stood, one, the tall one, had his fingers around a narrow brown wooden object that was mostly hidden in his sleeve, the other shorter one was slowly flexing the fingers of his right hand.

Dean grinned, "What is this, Halloween or something? Nice robes guys."

"How can they see?" the tall one asked his companion, narrowing strange silver-grey eyes.

The shorter one frowned, "I dunno, they're muggles all right, but..."

"Muggle, how can you see through the glamour?" the tall one demanded imperiously, taking a threatening step towards the two men. He was very nearly the same height as Sam, something that the boys didn't often see.

The shorter one put a calming hand on the tall one's arm, "Malfoy, wait. We can't harm Muggles. Even in America." He looked at the Winchesters with measuring, disturbingly green eyes. There was a hidden power behind the gaze that Sam hated to admit made him feel a little nervous. The guy was tiny, scrawny and no more than five foot nine but there was a strength in him that Sam didn't trust.

"All right guys. I'm taking my leave of the crazy train," Dean said, having enough of the stare down. He made a lunge and Sam noticed the short man's fingers dance at his side.

"Dean!" Sam shouted and pounced at his brother taking them both to the floor, just a gust of power flashed over their heads.

The green eyes of the short one looked shocked for a moment, "How did you..."

"_Incarcerous_," the tall one whispered and flicked the object in his hand at his side. Sam and Dean didn't have time to dodge, they were bound in an instant but could not see what held them.

"Getting soft Potter, you were bested by a muggle. Maybe you aren't as good at wandless as everyone wants to believe," Malfoy commented to his companion coming over and crouching before the brothers. "Hey, muggles. Speak."

The other one, Potter, rolled his eyes, "Malfoy."

"What? How _do_ you talk to these people?" Malfoy looked over, exasperated.

Sam looked at the two men, "Dean, they're witches."

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean snapped back.

Malfoy reared away from them and rose to his full, rather impressive height, "Now that's just rude. I may be as queer as a still portrait, but I am _not_ a witch."

"Don't really care, asshole. Let us go," Dean glared up at the man.

"Oh yes, since you asked so nicely. Of course let me just flick my wand and we'll all be on our merry way," Malfoy put his hands on his hips, and glared down at the bound men, clearly having no intention of releasing them.

"Malfoy," another warning tone from Potter. "Be nice. We have to find out what they are and how they know about us. So stop acting like a big bloody prat and let them up at least."

Malfoy raised an elegant brow at his companion. "No," he said quite simply.

Potter rolled his eyes, "That was just a formality." He waved his hands a little and Sam and Dean found themselves lifted to their feet. Another hand wave from Potter and two wooden chairs materialized behind the boys. One more wave and they found themselves seated somewhat comfortably if still secured.

"But seriously, wands? Since when is that legit?" Dean hissed at Sam.

Sam gave his brother a look, "Why are you asking me? I'm as confused as you are!"

Malfoy flicked his wand and the corpse of Bean slid away and into the freezer. Another little wave of his wand and the door shut and latched behind him. Potter was walking back and forth in front of the door, seemingly pacing but the tingle in the air lead the Winchester's to believe he was doing a lot more than that.

Sam took a few moments to gauge the men. They looked to be somewhere between his and Dean's age, maybe thirty, maybe not quite, maybe just over. They both seemed extremely fit underneath the dark robes, and each had a not quite right appearance about them, as if they were something beyond. It looked a bit like looking at Castiel or Balthazar now that Sam thought about it. Malfoy's strange, white-blond hair and unnerving silver grey eyes. Potter's slight build belaying his power, startling green eyes and crow-black hair. Not to mention the way they were both dressed in long black robes with wide sleeves and hoods.

Sam watched as they both conjured chairs across from him and Dean. Malfoy a comfortable looking green and white striped wingback and Potter a simple serviceable wooden chair much like their own.

"Is that necessary?" Potter asked Malfoy of the chair.

"I've no notion how long these muggles will take to form coherent thought and therefore am settling myself in for a long sit down. What is the harm in being comfortable?"

Potter rolled his eyes, "Merlin you are a prat. Fine. Whatever Malfoy. Oh and also, first thing we're doing when we're done is getting muggle clothing. Clearly your unbelievable glamour skills are disappointingly lack-lustre."

Malfoy sniffed, "My skills are top-notch Potter. It's these muggles which are the problem. Muggle clothing..." Malfoy shook his head and sneered.

"No arguments, you are getting muggle clothing and that's final." The subject was undoubtedly closed and Potter finally turned his attention back to Sam and Dean.

He smiled, wide and disarming, "Hi there, my name is Harry Potter and this is my partner Draco Malfoy. If you'd be so kind as to tell us what you know, and how you found out about the Wizarding World it would be greatly appreciated. Concisely if you please, we are unfortunately short for time. Gulch's little specialists will be along within a quarter of an hour."

Sam was able to resist for only a moment and Dean was clearly having the same issues struggling to keep his thoughts locked within. In a moment, they were telling the two strange men the Cliffs Notes version of the Song of Winchester.

_**TBC**__**…**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.

**Author's Notes:** See previous parts for warnings. All right, so this chapter doesn't have a terrible amount of kickass action in it that not really to sort of writer I am. There is action coming though, no worries just not yet. I'm actually kinda pleased with this chapter. Here we get a better and closer look at the HP boys and I hope you are pleased with the characterization. I knew a few of the readers were a little uncertain about them. Also, to anyone who I didn't get to respond to, thank you so much for reviewing! It really helps me to continue posting when I know there's people who want to read it. Also thanks so much for those who are reading this on who are putting me and this story on their favourites and watch lists. I really appreciate it!

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**Chapter Two – **_**Wherein **__**domestic bliss is completely **__**un-**__**blissfull...**_

It took maybe ten minutes or so for Sam and Dean to jointly complete a very truncated version of what led them to be at the morgue on that particular day. Both Malfoy and Potter looked contemplative, not saying a word. Malfoy was twirling his wand round and round in front of him, elbows rested on the arm rests as he looked not at, but through the Winchesters. Potter sat with his fingers drumming as he stared intently at Dean's boots.

A clatter came at the door startling all four men. Potter and Malfoy jumped up.

"Bugger, out of time," Potter proclaimed. "We aren't done. They're coming with us."

"Coming with us? Potter are you mad? We should be Obliviating them right here, not inviting them home for tea!" Malfoy exclaimed glaring at the smaller man.

Potter glared right back, "Sure thing Malfoy, you distract the firing squad while I do that. It's not a thirty second job you well know!"

Sam shared the nervous look Dean stole at the door when the heard a hell of a lot of banging.

Dean looked up at the two strange men, "Look Betty, Veronica, could you make a decision

already? Sammy and I are kinda tied up at the moment, and we're running out of time."

Potter looked very pointedly at Malfoy. Malfoy rolled his eyes but nodded. A few wand flicks and all the detritus was cleared from the room, except for the unconscious Ezekiel Gulch.

"I'll take floppy you take his pit bull," Malfoy indicated with his head that he meant Sam and Dean respectively.

Potter looked grateful, "Thanks. I'm good, but side along apparition is difficult enough without an extra hundred pounds and nine inches."

Sam and Dean were still recovering from the memory dump, feeling a little foggy and disoriented.

"Right, this is going to get uncomfortable," Potter said almost apologetically as he approached Dean's side.

"And I imagine you'll wake up with a bugger of headache," Malfoy grinned just this side of maliciously as he neared Sam.

Despite the fog in their heads and the walking through honey feeling of their limbs, the brothers both put up a weak struggle as the strange men approached.

"Seriously, don't struggle," Potter warned.

"Yeah, we don't know how to put Humpty Muggle back together again once he tumbles from the wall," Malfoy smirked.

Potter looked at Malfoy, his expression showing both disbelief and annoyance at the same time, "Really? Nursery Rhymes?"

"What you really think that old biddy could have been a muggle with a name like Mother Goose?" Malfoy replied.

"Full of surprises today," Harry shook his head.

Malfoy grinned, "Just you wait Potter. All right, onward." He swooped down and lifted Sam to his feet easily. Potter bent and retrieved Dean with a little more effort. The two strange men turned on the spot with their individual burdens. Sam felt like his insides were trying to be squeezed out his belly button and that was all he remembered for the next several hours.

Harry stared at the slumbering muggles on the cots they had set up in an abandoned muggle home. It had been carefully warded and guarded. Malfoy was over at the crumbling hearth tinkering with it in an effort to establish a long distance floo network to communicate with back home. From the assorted curses it wasn't going well.

Harry recognized the symbol on Bean's chest instantly from his studies and Malfoy concurred with his summation. It was a rune used in the transference of magical energy, the likes of which had not been seen in centuries. It was dark, wicked stuff and also extremely volatile. From what Malfoy told Harry he gathered, whoever was perpetrating these killings was doing so in order to perform a ritual that was purported to cause invisibility, only at the small price of one's soul of course.

That explained the location, the castor needed blood and bone of thirty condemned witches in order to succeed he also needed about two dozen sycophants and most importantly the magic essence of nine souls. Nine very special souls. The Ninth Son of a family line. Three men in the twilight of their lives, three men in the prime of their lives and three men in the dawn of their lives. According to Draco, it didn't matter in which order the men were taken but many preferred to go young, middle, old. Old, middle, young. Middle, old, young. The last typically a very young wizard who has yet to reach sexual maturity. There by completing the symmetry of the spell but never repeating the pattern. Bean had been north of sixty, Malfoy estimated three to eight victims, so far.

Harry decided it was time to get down to some intense research. The Ameri-Magic Senate hadn't really provided them with a wealth of information and they definitely needed more to go on. But these men, these self-titled Hunters may be of use. If what they were telling was true they were akin to the crack Auror team of the United States, minus the magic of course. And Harry knew for a fact that what they had said was true. It was his spell, one he had invented himself with the help of Hermione that had yet to fail him in his five years of using it. Draco had dubbed it verbal veritaserum, but more effective and without all the added bother of asking questions.

A high pitched squealed "Daddy!" came from the sitting room and Harry smiling knowing that meant that Malfoy got the floo working. Of course the first person he would firecall was his six-year-old son. As soon as Malfoy was done Harry vowed to call his own three children then report to the Ministry. He assumed they would have to get permission to work with the muggles but Harry had become rather good at persuading the Head Auror. Malfoy had constantly informed him with no little amusement that was his Slytherin side kicking in. Harry supposed it was true. Ron always got uncomfortable when Harry employed his powers of persuasion. "That's just freaky mate," Ron would say with wide blue eyes before turning back to whatever task they had on hand.

Harry sighed, he should give Ron and Hermione a call as well. See how the baby was doing. Well he supposed not really a baby any longer, Hugo was very nearly four just like his own Lily, but Hugo had come down with Dragon Pox not too long ago and he knew both his best friends had been extremely worried about their only son.

Malfoy came into the room with a goofy grin on his face, which he quickly schooled to his more familiar mask of general contempt for the world. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Floo's up," Malfoy said needlessly. "I'll watch the muggles. You go make your calls. And I warn you Potter, if by the time you get back you don't give me a good reason not to wipe their minds clean then I'll do it with or without your permission."

Harry nodded, "Fine." He was just about to leave the room when he turned back and said warningly, "Be nice."

Malfoy scoffed, "They're unconscious Potter, really what could I do?"

"So very much," Harry said darkly shaking his head, before exiting the room against his better judgement.

Harry threw the powder in the flames and watched them spark green then blue before settling into a deep violet, "Hello?"

He heard trampling little boy feet and saw the green eyes and round bright face of his six-year-old appear in the flames, "Hi Dad!"

"'Lo Al, how's it going?" Harry asked.

"Good, how's America? Do the wizards really say all their spells in English? Does it sound funny? Is it hot there? We have rain. Did you catch the bad guy yet?" Albus asked in one long rush.

Harry let him ramble as his small son was wont to do, when there was an opening he said, "Haven't actually met any American wizards yet. There was one British one, but he wasn't on our side. We've only been here a few hours so we are still carrying on our reconnaissance. How's it at your mum's?"

He watched Albus shift uncomfortably as Harry referred to his soon to be ex-wife.

"Um... Patrick Pinkett is here," Albus glanced to the side, and Harry knew it was in the direction of Ginny's sitting room.

"Ah... good ol' Paddy," Harry said tightly. It hadn't really been a messy break-up per say, both Ginny and Harry had just quickly come to the conclusion that a love match they were not. It was more falling in line to what was expected of them. Something Harry had been unfortunately doing his entire life and also a habit he vowed to break.

Ron had confessed, much to Harry's surprise, upon learning of the split that he was a bit relieved. He always found the thought of his best mate with his little sister a bit uncomfortable. Though three wonderful by-products of the happy-marriage-that-wasn't, were Harry's children.

"S'all right," Albus shrugged.

"Your brother and sister around?" Harry asked, knowing a united front in the face of Pinkett would improve his son's demeanour.

"Nah. James is at Uncle George's and Lily is over at Uncle Ron's," Albus shrugged.

"Why didn't you go to one of your Uncles'?" Harry asked with concern.

"You know I'm useless with all that joke stuff," Al shrugged. "And Lily and Rose always do girly stuff, Hugo's too young still to be any fun."

Harry heard Ginny's voice faintly in the background and smiled sadly.

"Got to go Dad, supper's on," Al said hurriedly.

Harry nodded, "All right, love you."

"Love you," Albus said back as he scrambled to his feet and ended the firecall.

Harry sat there a moment before reaching for the floo powder again to make his call to the Ministry. Draco came and interrupted before Harry could toss the powder in the hearth.

"They're waking," Malfoy informed him.

"Right," Harry nodded and pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his knee cracked. The ministry could wait.

"You don't look pleased Potter," Malfoy commented.

"It's nothing. How're Scorpius and Astoria?" Harry quickly asked, before Malfoy could pry.

"Scorpius is brilliant and I image my charming wife is off gallivanting around France or California at the moment quite content. Haven't heard much from her in a few months now," Malfoy shrugged.

Harry looked confused, "But..."

"Scorpius is at my mother's and father's currently," Malfoy explained. "I imagine he's getting calls or owls from his mother, I don't really care to ask."

"Oh," was all Harry managed. He supposed his wasn't the only marriage that was less than harmonious. Maybe the throw-away queer comment from earlier that day had more meaning that Harry originally thought. He looked at Draco appraisingly for a moment and shrugged.

"Well shall we see what our two dear muggles have to say?" Malfoy opened the door to the room where they were keeping the men and stepped aside, gesturing for Harry to go first.

Harry put a hand out to Draco, "Look, Malfoy. I don't really have a good reason to not Obliviate them. I know it's the thing to do, I went to Auror camp as well… But these guys, these Winchesters… I think there's more to them than meets the eye and I think… they may be of use. The Ameri-Magic Senate didn't give us much and these men seem to know their way around the supernatural. We could…"

Malfoy waited than raised a brow, "What _use_ them? Do my ears deceive me or did the Great Harry Potter just suggest we _use_ human beings… for our personal gain? How exactly do you suggest we keep them here?"

Harry's look was pointed, "Magic Malfoy.'

Draco shook his head, "My word, if I hadn't just heard it myself... Not only to you want to manipulate and use the muggles you also want to hold them prisoner? I suppose I've always given you less credit as a Slytherin than you deserve."

Harry waited, not really needing the taller man's approval but a part of him he wasn't quite ready to explore felt he needed it, his patience was wearing thin though, waiting for a response, "Well?"

Draco's gaze swept over Harry's face, quick and calculating, "They can keep their memories for a little while yet. It isn't a horrid plan as plans go. I'm sure they have more information about the location than we do anyway. They get too much to handle though…"

Harry nodded, "Right, we Obliviate their memories, of course. But really? What trouble could two American muggles cause?"

"I can't disagree there," Malfoy begrudgingly nodded.

Of course Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy didn't know Dean and Sam Winchester.

_**TBC…**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, again not a whole lot of action, it's a little longer because Dean likes to talk. Also, for some reason Draco decided to be a prat in this part… Oh well. I suppose that's how he was feeling at the time…

Please see Prologue for warnings, ratings and previous chapters.

**Chapter Three – **_**Wherein Dean returns from then returns to Dream Town**__**…**_

Dean woke fully to the sound of a door opening that sounded like a gunshot. That's funny, he didn't remember getting drunk, but maybe that just meant he had a hell of a good time. Then he felt a queasy uncomfortable feeling like his guts were trying to reorient themselves and he flashed back to the morgue and the two weird guys with cloaks and the whipping, pulling, bending, turning that reduced him to his current state. As promised by the tall snide one, Dean had a headache that hurt like hell. Curtains were yanked open just as Dean fully opened his eyes and sunlight seemed to pierce into his brain like hot needles.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed, slamming his eyes shut.

"Oh! Sorry!" the room was darkened once more but Dean noticed the short man hadn't moved an inch.

His shook his head, regretting it a moment after, "Jesus."

"Dean?" Sam's groggy voice came from a short distance across the room.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm here," Dean answered, reflexively using the diminutive form of Sam's name as he often did in situations like this, situations of which the numbers were uncomfortably high.

"Izzz Sam," Sam slurred and Dean grinned a little even though it hurt his cheeks to do so. At least if Sam was correcting him, his little brother was all right... Hopefully.

Dean braved opening his eyes again and found that the semi-darkness of the room made it somewhat bearable to do so. He also realized that he was lashed to the bed once more in invisible bonds.

"I'm very sorry," the short one (Potter was it?) said with genuine regret in his voice. "It's just we can't risk you running off after seeing us. I'm sure you understand. However, I do have a plan to propose that will ensure your quick release, if you agree to it. I do promise though, that whatever you decide, you will not be harmed."

"We've already been harmed," Dean snapped at the slightly younger man, mocking his accent.

"We're sorry," Potter said again.

"He's sorry... _I_ find it amusing," Malfoy grinned. Potter slugged him in the arm and Malfoy mouthed "ow" at the shorter man, rubbing the tender spot. He glared and lapsed into what Dean was sure was pouty silence. The expression on his face resembled Sam quite a bit when he was "bitchfacing" at Dean. Dean looked between both men and wondered at the relationship there.

"What's this plan?" Sam groaned from Dean's side. Clearly Malfoy hadn't been as gentle with Sam as Potter had been with him.

"That we help one another," Potter said simply. "The Ameri-Magic Senate called us here, but they gave us little information. Clearly we are after the same thing and I thought perhaps with our combined experience we could take care of this problem before it escalates any farther."

"And you'll let us go? Free from harm?" Sam asked.

"Of course," Potter said at the same time Malfoy said, "Probably."

"Great way to instil confidence there boys," Dean sneered.

"Malfoy's just being an arse. He won't hurt you. He merely has an infliction that prevents him from keeping his bloody mouth shut," Potter glared at his partner.

"Ouch, dear me, that stung. However am I to recover from your barb'd tongue?" Malfoy said dramatically, not at all quelled.

"How can we trust you?" Sam asked.

Dean thought it was a damn good question. Potter was being… too nice and Malfoy's eyes were stilted just a little too much for Dean's liking. His first thought of course was haul ass and run like hell, but there was that whole annoying issue of being trussed up like a pig on a spit that put the brakes on that one. So that, combined with super freaky magical powers didn't put trusting these guys high on Dean's list of priorities.

"We aren't bad people, Sam," Potter said gently. Dean turned his gaze towards the dark haired man, a clear look of scepticism on his face.

"I am!" Malfoy said eagerly.

"Well yes, but he has a leash," Potter jerked his thumb towards the blond man. Dean looked form one man to the other, and continued to assess them carefully. The blond one was an asshole, but the little one was all right. Dean also got the impression that the blond one was more talk than swagger anyway. And he prided himself at being a good judge of character. It wasn't often that he was fooled. Not like Demon-Casanova Sammy. But there had been Cas... Dean stopped those thoughts before the angel could cloud his mind. Now was not the time to think of him, prostrate and bound to a bed... Dean shook his head again. Now was not the time to think of the fucking angel. Dean felt his neck go a little hot. Now was not the time. He left his thoughts at that and he and Sam shared a glance. Sam's puppy dog eyes were swimming and Dean knew he wanted to take the witches or whatever they were at their word... Or maybe he was just concussed.

Dean glared back and forth, using his gut and trying to figure out his next move, finally he made his decision, "Fine. But if the bastard there makes one wrong move I get to shoot him."

Potter grinned, "Fair enough."

Malfoy frowned looking puzzled, "Shoot me? What does that mean?" Dean blinked, was this guy serious?

"Nothing," Potter said innocently.

Malfoy mumbled something about bloody muggles before he rose, "I'm going to make some tea."

"Tea?" Dean asked flatly. "Really?" Malfoy flicked a hand and Dean felt something sting his cheek. He flinched and glared after the innocently retreating blond.

"Hey!" Dean struggled against the invisible bonds. "Let me at that little bitch."

"Please try to ignore him," Potter said in a placating manner. "He really is quite nice once you get past... Well... Him..." Potter looked confused at his own train of thought for a moment before shrugging.

"Just relax and I'll let you up," Potter entreated. Reluctantly Dean settled and looked over at Sam who still seemed a little more doped up than he should have been.

"Is he all right?" Dean asked, all anger at the blond bastard flying from him in the face of concern for his little brother.

Potter frowned over at the tall man as he casually released Dean and then Sam.

"He does seem to be taking it rather hard. Malfoy's a git, but his not a malicious one... Er... Any longer," Potter said uncomfortably. "He acts like he is but that's mostly because he's uncomfortable around muggles... Um, non-magic people."

Well that answered one question that Dean had been wondering about but he still had a thousand-and-one more. He stood, groaning as his muscles protested after being confined for so long and walked over to Sam's cot before sitting on the edge.

"Sam... Sammy, you okay Dude?" Dean asked gently.

"Feel... sick," Sam muttered, squinting up at his brother as if the light hurt his eyes.

"Would you allow me...?" Potter asked, gesturing to Sam.

Dean hesitated for a moment, aside of the whole tying up thing Potter hadn't done anything to hurt them. Also Dean didn't really have a whole lot of options here which just made him feel boned all to hell… again.

Eventually even though well over half his instincts where pounding at his skull for him not to, Dean nodded and moved away. Potter came over and stared down at Sam for a minute. He waved his fingers in a small messy arch and waited. He stood with his head cocked to the side and each moment of passing silence made Dean's anxiety increase. Suddenly Potter's eyes widened and he leaned in and began rifling through Sam's pockets.

"Hey there Bad-Touch, watch it!" Dean exclaimed moving forward protectively.

"Calm down Dean. I've located the problem," Potter said gently. Dean began to remember how much he hated being told to calm down and felt his anger stirring. He took a deep breath and waited. Finally Potter seemed to have found what he had been searching for and held the small sample vials victoriously aloft.

"Dark Magic Sickness," Potter explained waving the vial with the black substance to further his point. "How long has he been carrying it?"

"How long have we been out?" Dean countered.

"A few hours," Potter replied.

Dean shifted, "A little longer than that, then."

"Oh, well I'll do a quick aura cleanse. It should work on muggles just as well as wizards," Potter said. "He'll be fine after that."

Wizards? Jeeze, this was getting more and more ridiculous. Dean watched anxiously as Potter tucked the vials away and sat next to Sam on the bed. He closed his eyes and kept his hands resting lightly on his lap. No silly little waves this time, no ridiculous magic words. Just sat. Dean saw Sam shimmer for a moment a sort of rusty copper red colour before it faded and he was just Sam again. His breathing seemed to deepen and even out and colour that Dean hadn't realized Sam had lost flooded back.

"That's that," Potter patted Dean's shoulder as he passed. "I'm going to make sure Malfoy hasn't destroyed the kitchen. Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks," Dean replied distractedly.

"Right then." Potter nodded and moved to leave the room but paused at the door, "Oh, and don't try to leave the house. I've warded it against anyone trying to leave or enter without express permission. If you try you may get hurt. It's not that I don't trust you..." Potter didn't finish the lie. Dean got the message, loud and clear.

Dean didn't blame the Englishman really, if their situations were reversed Dean wouldn't trust him either. Hell, Dean probably wouldn't have even untied them. But then again, Dean didn't have magic to keep wizards or whatever they hell they were inside.

"Damnit Sam, what have we gotten ourselves into this time?" Dean asked quietly as he sat on his brother's bed, resting his forehead on his clasped hands.

Dean dragged his hands apart and rubbed his face, staring off into nothing for a moment. But that was dangerous, staring at nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing made Dean think and right now that is the last thing Dean wanted to do. Unbidden flashes of dark hair and blue eyes stole across his mind and he shook his head, punching a fist into the thin padding of the cot. _You aren't my family Dean. I have no family._

"Fuck you Cas," Dean hissed, pushing himself almost violently off Sam's cot and causing the flimsy thing to wobble slightly. Dean steadied it quickly and moved off staring out the window into the over grown yard below.

Dean leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and shut his eyes. For once, realizing it was harder and harder to fight, he let the thoughts come.

_Dean sat alone in his motel room. Sam was off again doing God knows what, leaving Dean in brooding silence._

_He felt more than saw Castiel arrive and glanced over at the angel. Cas was sitting so close that their thighs touched and the eldest Winchester could feel the warm of him through his jeans. Dean would normally give the angel a lesson in personal space but honestly he just appreciated the contact of another being at that moment. Even _if_ that being took the meaning of 'socially awkward' to a whole new plain of existence._

"_I sensed you were in distress," Castiel said in that monotonous way of his._

"_I'm fine," Dean countered gruffly._

"_All right Dean," Castiel said, but the angel didn't move and gradually Dean began to feel better._

It wasn't often that Dean allowed himself to remember, to grieve. He always felt it was necessary to keep up a brave face in front of Sam. Dean would forever be his big brother after all. But, on the occasions he did open up to his little brother he found it difficult to take Sam's pitying looks. It was just too much sometimes.

Losing Cas hit harder than Dean thought it should have. He had tried to lie to himself, but he'd only ever been good at lying to other people. That had been one of the reasons Dean had been so glad to come across this case. At least he could be distracted, for a little while anyway. He just hoped they weren't getting in over their heads... Again.

Now Sam was sick, and they were stuck with fucking wizards, who may very well literally be able to kill them both with a thought. Somehow Dean understood that it was all his fault.

He contemplated briefly trying to make a run for it, but his better judgement told him that keeping one's skin intact was probably the better way to deal with two suspicious magic welding foreigners. Dean sighed and turned away from the window. He glanced around, the barren room and his eye lit upon his suit jacket slung over a rickety looking chair. Curious, but not expecting much Dean walked over and looked through the pockets. When his hand hit cool metal he grinned. Well wizards were good for one thing they were too damn arrogant to check for guns. Dean checked the clip, full still, he hadn't had a chance to use it and tucked it away in his waist band, un-tucking his white dress shirt to hide it the best he could.

Having a gun was great and all, but a gun didn't get him out of a magic-bubble or whatever the hell it was. Dean sighed again. He checked on Sam and then left the room in search of some liquid lunch. He wondered absently if wizards could conjure a 2-6 of Jack. At least then the fucking guys would be good for something other than pissing him off.

_**TBC…**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.

**Author's Notes:** I'm getting to the good stuff, I promise! This is Draco-centric and we can warm up to him a little now. Somehow this story turned into the Draco and Dean show… Oh well! A bit shorter, please enjoy!

Please see Prologue for warnings and ratings.

**Chapter Four – **_**Wherein Draco Malfoy is a git... then makes up for it in secret**_

Draco slammed his book shut and took another glance at the oddly glowing contraption that he had been informed was a 'cellular phone' whatever the fuck that meant. When the tall muggle had shown him the picture he had taken back at the morgue, during their brief interrogation, Draco nearly jumped out of his seat wondering where the light came from. Potter assured him it was only 'technology' and that the only thing he'd risk getting from it was a sweaty ear. Which was utterly disgusting.

On the 'screen' of the glowing thing was an image of the macabrely etched rune that Potter and he had gone to investigate. One of the few things the Ameri-Magic Senate had done for them at least was provide them with a very brief report 'detailing' an "indeterminate amount of grisly murders committed undoubtedly by a witch or wizard. Of which at least one victim was found with an obscure ancient symbol carved upon his chest." Frankly Draco was sick of researching and needed a distraction. After all they already knew what the ritual was. It wasn't so much the 'what' anymore as the 'when' and he wouldn't get that from books.

Draco stared contemplatively over at the older muggle who was sitting alone in the corner, nursing a dusty bottle of what the label indicated to be whiskey. Draco could only assume it was similar to Firewhiskey and would ask Potter about it later. Draco sort of wished he had paid closer attention in his Muggle Studies class at school but he also knew that they likely would not have covered the drinking habits of muggles. Or maybe they would have…

Draco felt sick for a moment remembering the professor hanging tortured and desperate over his dining room table, looking at the frightened boy with pleading eyes and begging Snape to help her. Draco stood up from his chair and began pacing the room, going over to lean on the window frame for a moment while he took several deep breaths.

He felt Potter's eyes on him; that calculating suspicious gaze trying to bore into his soul, or maybe Potter was just trying Legilimency even though he was piss-poor at it. Draco ignored the gaze, regardless of what it implied and tried to block the memories of those horrid months from his mind. Three, Two, One... Quidditch. _Flashes of gold, the wind dancing over his face and blowing his hair joyfully awry, billowing flapping robes and cheers from rainbow coloured stands_. Draco nodded and smirked, schooled his features and he was back.

"See something you like Potter?" Draco turned slowly and grinned at the shorter man flashing too many teeth for the look to be anything but predatory. Draco was gratified to see Potter look uncomfortable for a moment however brief.

"All right Malfoy?" Potter asked, not rising to the bait.

"Fine Potter," Draco waved it off, sauntering back to his abandoned chair, book and tea. "The muggle doesn't seem to be though." Draco indicated with his head. Potter's face took on that soppy, concerned Gryffindor expression that Draco loathed.

Potter frowned, "He's worried for his brother."

The snarky muggle looked over at them, eyes flashing, "The muggle can hear you."

Draco wracked his brain trying to think of the older muggle's name but couldn't remember it for the life of him. Had they ever been told? Draco seemed to recall Potter referring to them as something... But... Draco glanced surreptitiously at Potter before narrowing his eyes at the muggle and letting his wand fall into his hand. Draco was much better at Legilimency than Potter.

The muggle flinched and glared at Draco, "What the hell are you doing?"

Draco blinked, "You weren't supposed to realize." How the hell had he realized? Even some of the most skilled witches and wizards in the world had never picked up on Draco's prying, Potter included... And that was certainly a head-trip that Draco had no desire to take again.

Potter kicked Draco under the table. Draco winced and glared at the shorter man.

"I was only trying to get your name," Draco said defensively, as he turned back to the muggle.

The muggle rose abruptly and stormed to the back door, "Have you ever thought of asking? Can I go to the yard without my balls getting fried?" The second question was directed at Potter who nodded, with a slightly stunned expression on his face. Draco absently noted that it sort of made him resemble a vacant frog. The muggle left and slammed the door behind him. Draco wished not for the first time that Potter had allowed him to obliviate the muggles in the first place because then he wouldn't have to deal with this. They were perfectly capable and didn't need the two men to help them.

"Why didn't you just ask?" Potter hissed at him, anger flashing in striking green eyes. "He'll never trust us now."

Draco gave him a patented Malfoy look, a slight quirk of the eyebrow that spoke volumes, "When have you ever known me to ask for anything? Besides, shouldn't we be more concerned with how he knew I was doing Legilimency on him? I've done it on you before and you just snored and rolled over!"

"Malfoy! Legilimency? You have to be more careful, all the shite you've pulled you're just lucky you're with me and not someone who will report you to the Ministry!" Harry shouted as he pushed violently away from the table. "You purebloods all the same, treating muggles like fodder. The sad thing is I can't even blame you because I know how you are. How you were raised. What that muggle did to you when you were a boy was wrong, but that doesn't mean you can cast spells willy-nilly on them! I know they make you nervous, but please, try to contain yourself."

Draco who had been much too in shock to speak up until Potter finished his characteristic rant, now glared daggers at the smaller man and stood as well. The blond came around and stepped threateningly close, literally looming over Potter's slight form. Potter of course was not intimidated, but that didn't mean that Draco backed down.

"I told you to never speak of that Potter. If I ever hear that uttered from your lips again I will hunt you down and personally hex you into next millennium," Draco brushed past Potter, knocking him and causing him to stumble slightly as he did so, much to Draco's satisfaction. He was just about to exit the kitchen when he turned, "Oh and Potter, before you try that self-righteous shite, just remember: the hat wanted to put _you_ in Slytherin. It was _your_ idea to keep them here to use as _your_ little pawns. Think on that in the future before you start making accusations."

Draco didn't linger to catch the look on Potter's face, he merely stormed out of the kitchen to the room he had claimed his own. He would have liked to have gone for a walk, or just have gotten out of this house, but Potter was right. Even though Draco would never in a million and a half millennia admit it, he was nervous of muggles. He didn't understand them and he didn't trust them. And what Draco Malfoy didn't trust, he did not go looking for. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing; he knew how to pick his battles. Despite that though, Draco did feel a little guilty. A feeling he had grown uncomfortably familiar with ever since fatherhood struck him. Maybe he should have just asked the muggle what his name was instead of prying... Draco actually felt somewhat of a bully, though he wasn't much smaller, than him, the muggle was smaller, he had no magical abilities to defend himself and was probably scared shitless.

Also, Draco had noticed a darkness and pain in the muggle's eyes that he was desperately trying to hide but managed to bleed through. After all, to employ a woefully overused cliché, Draco saw much the same expression in the mirror every day. Secrets, betrayal, loss. Draco looked down. He imagined apologizing would get him nowhere, but there was one thing he could do.

The blond man rose and peeked out of his door, feeling a little absurd as he did so. He crept down the corridor and paused at the slightly ajar door of the room the muggles had been put in. The tall muggle was still asleep on the cot, seemingly peaceful. Draco took one more, stealthy glance down the corridor then entered the room. He looked at the sad little cots on the floor and pulled out his wand. It was a little trickier with someone actually on the surface but Draco had always been fairly good at Transfiguration. He would have been brilliant if it hadn't been for McGonagall. Draco pulled out his wand, said the words and watched as the tiny Spartan cots transfigured themselves into large comfortable beds. Draco watched the tall muggle shift and sigh contentedly, rolling to his side as he recovered from the Dark Magic Poisoning. That's when Draco remembered something else and would have bonked himself on the head if it weren't so undignified. He was a Potions Master, he had potions and what he didn't have he could make.

Draco returned to his room and dug through his supplies finding a jar amidst many. He uncorked it and poured some of it into a vial. Draco grabbed a scrap of paper and a quill and wrote a quick note in his elegant hand.

_Drink Me. _

Draco returned and set the small crystal vial of pleasantly azure liquid on a side table he had conjured next to the big muggle's bed and left the room. That will certainly speed up his recovery, if he trusted enough to take it.

Guilt, somewhat assuaged, Draco returned to his room to get some work done.

The next morning found Draco and Potter at the breakfast table, tea and toast before them. Potter was flipping through the Wizarding Times and Draco was once more reading through the passage on the ritual that they were trying to stop. He really did need to see if there was anyway they could establish a pattern and hopefully catch the perpetrator before the next intended was killed.

Both looked up as the gruff muggle entered the room.

"Good morning," Potter greeted pleasantly.

"Morning," the muggle replied. "Thanks for the beds and the medicine last night by the way. Sam's awake and talking again. _Without_ sounding like a drunk frat-boy."

Draco knew Potter was wearing his typical expression of confusion, "Wasn't me. I wouldn't feed a Death Eater the potions I brew... Well maybe a Death Eater..."

Draco felt eyes boring into the side of his head but didn't look up from his book. He didn't need the muggle's disbelief and he certainly didn't need his thanks.

"I assumed from your comment yesterday you and your brother are not what you'd call tea drinkers. I went out this morning and got some coffee. Creamers and sugar as well if you need it," Potter explained.

"Ah great, thanks," the muggle sounded thrown, and went to retrieve the beverages from the counter where Potter had put them with a warming charm on them.

"I'll go take this to Sam," The muggle gestured with the tray in his hand.

"Wait," Draco interrupted before the muggle could leave. He walked over and he cleared his throat, holding out a hand. He flashed back briefly to another meeting like this twenty years previous and wondered if he would once more be denied. From Potter's awkward and imbecilic shifting he was remembering as well.

"Hello, pleased to meet you. My name is Draco Malfoy."

He waited a beat. Then another and finally he felt his hand grasped in a firm calloused grip.

"Dean Winchester."

"I'm glad your brother is doing well. I'll check on him later," Draco nodded once.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean nodded back and left.

Draco looked over to see Potter grinning at him in a very irritating manner.

"Shut it Potter," the blond snapped and returned to his book.

_**TBC…**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, not by best chapter and kinda short, so I apologize in advance. Ah… probably can't really handle any serious criticism for this one, so please be kind. I briefly considered cutting it but I wanted Sam to get a moment with Draco… So here you go…

Please see Prologue for warnings and ratings.

**Chapter Five – **_**Wherein Sam likes ellipses entirely too much...**_

Sam sighed and tossed another dusty old tome next to him on the bed. He dragged an aggrieved hand through his hair and glared down at his toes.

"Something wrong there Sammy?" Dean asked from across the room where he was sitting at Sam's old laptop. Sam knew his brother preferred it over the tablet and let him hang onto it.

"I've gone through dozens of these books and I can't find one single reference to that symbol," Sam explained. Harry and Draco had told him their findings but he always liked to do research on his own, for confirmation purposes. Dean said it was just because he liked to get his geek on, but Dean was a dick.

"Well, Potter and Malfoy told us what they know. Why not just go with it?" Dean shrugged.

Sam shot his brother a look, not believing what he was hearing, "Really Dean? You don't find that at all suspicious? You seriously just wanna take them at their word? They're witches Dean, _witches_."

Dean shrugged. "Wizards," he corrected quietly.

Sam shook his head, astounded, "Come on Dean! What do you really know about these guys?"

"They saved you Sam," Dean snapped roughly. He pushed away from the table and left the room without a backwards glance. Sam sighed wondering what had gotten into Dean. When only twenty-four hours ago he had been ready to cap them one and make a break for higher ground, so to speak.

Sam wondered when exactly their roles had been reversed. When had Dean become the trusting one and Sam the suspicious one? Especially after the whole Castiel fiasco, Sam didn't think Dean would have been so willing to put his faith in anyone so quickly again, especially not wizards. It had Sam questioning for a moment if they had put a spell on his brother. Sam sent a distrusting glare at the door.

Sam pursed his lips and tapped his foot. He was fighting an internal battle on whether to trust his own instincts or his brother's. Regretfully, and though Sam hated to admit it, Dean's instincts were better than Sam's own, if history had anything to say. Yet, there was also the very real chance that Dean's head was addled thanks to the Castiel issue. Was his desire to finish this cult outweighing his desire to get the hell out of dodge and away from these guys? Then again, they _hadn't_ hurt them , at least not on purpose. It was only the Dark Magic residue that flared when magic was used on Sam that had caused his temporary illness, not a premeditated attack. Also these 'wizards' had saved him... Helped him heal... But regardless of the name, weren't all magic users bad news? Wasn't that what they had always discovered and always been told?

Never before had they come across any hunter declaring their love and admiration of witches. In fact they were studiously avoided if at all possible because when it came right down to it, they were just sick twisted people... Not possessed, not monsters, not anything that was typically hunted. Just people who got in too deep in extremely dangerous shit... Like Ruby when she was human... Sam clenched a fist and gritted his teeth. He would _not_ think of his great mistake. Trusting her was the worst thing he had ever done. Period.

... Maybe...

...Well he had done a lot of bad things, but trusting her was _very_ bad. She had been the catalyst, if it hadn't been for her then none of the other crap that happened to the world because of him would have happened. If he hadn't trusted her then he'd never have killed Lilith. He never would have agreed to becoming Lucifer's muppet. He never would have gone to hell. He never would have crawled back out and become soulless and he never would have hurt that waitress... If he hadn't trusted Ruby...

...But he wanted to save Dean so badly _that's_ why he trusted her... He wanted to save Dean because Dean had—

Sam abruptly stopped that line of thought. He wasn't really getting anywhere; just a sore ass from sitting in one spot so long and a whole lot of irritation.

Sam was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the slightly ajar door. He looked over to see the blond head of Draco Malfoy, peering almost hesitantly in... Almost.

"May I come in?" the tall wizard asked politely.

Sam hesitated only a moment before nodding. He watched closely as Draco moved into the room. He had a peculiar way that he moved. Gliding and sinewy, almost liquid. It was no easy feat for a man to move like that. It had him wondering if that was something to do with the magic or just merely breeding.

"How are you feeling, Winchester?" Draco asked reservedly, but nicely enough. Which Sam found just down right creepy.

"Uh... yeah, I'm good," Sam replied with a little shrug.

"I'm glad to hear that. I've promised your brother I'd check you over but first I feel I must do something," Draco said stiffly. "If I don't then Potter will give me a horribly soppy, desperate look that I simply cannot abide. You see, I said and did some things which I now realize to have been foolish. And regardless of the fact that you may not be aware of it, I must apologize for my behaviour the last several days. It was... juvenile and unnecessary. I find myself in a situation with which I am entirely unfamiliar and fear I have lashed out mistakenly."

The room had just become very awkward and both men were feeling it. Sam coughed in an effort to release the tension then said, "Uh... accepted. I guess. For...um... whatever... it... was."

Draco nodded stiffly, "Right then. Awkward moment passed. Now, let's have a look."

The blond wizard was suddenly all business as he approached Sam. As much as Sam hated to admit it, he felt slightly intimidated by the other man. As Dean never failed to inform him, Sam was not a small guy and it was really rather unusual to come across another man close to his own size.

Regardless of any situation Sam found himself in, usually he had his sheer size working to his advantage. Not in this case. He had little more than an inch on Malfoy and was sadly lacking any abilities he once had possessed. Sam knew he was as taut as a bow string and apparently Draco realized as well.

"I only bite with express permission, Winchester. You can relax," Draco commented causing Sam to flush very slightly.

Draco placed one cool, dry hand on Sam's chin, tilting the other man's head up in order to see into his eyes. He twisted it gently left then right, inspected Sam's tongue and felt his pulse.

"Are you a doctor or something?" Sam asked.

Draco pulled away and looked confused, "A doctor? Is that akin to a healer or is it a muggle professor? I've heard the word but..."

Sam was still shocked sometimes with this intelligent, worldly man opened his mouth and sounded like a clueless kid. How could he possibly not know such simple things? Were their worlds really so different?

"Um... it's ah... both I guess. I meant the healer one," Sam explained.

"You muggles have such confusing language sometimes," Malfoy furrowed his brow. "But me? A healer? Merlin's no, bodily fluids are revolting. I'm simply a father."

Sam blinked, surprised at the revelation, "You have kids?"

Malfoy's frown deepened, "Why is that so odd? I'm thirty-one years old. I started late compared to others I know, my child is only six. I have several school friends with children already enrolled in Hogwarts."

"Huh, different world I guess," Sam commented.

Now Malfoy looked at him as if he were an idiot, "Obviously Winchester. Now enough about that. I'm afraid this next part is going to be a slight bit uncomfortable. As you've already heard, I am a father and unfortunately only know one method to take a temperature, which I must check."

Sam blanched, getting visions of anal probes and tried to back away, "Ah... that's all—"

He was cut off abruptly when Malfoy leaned in and pressed a faint, light kiss smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Sam felt his cheeks go hot, and his body go stiff. It was over as soon as it started and not at all was Sam was expecting but much better than what he had been, but no less discomfiting.

Draco paused for a moment, staring down at Sam with hand under his chin still frowning, "Well, it does seem relatively normal... There was a bit of a spike for a moment but it evened out. I say you have a clean bill of health. Magic sickness is gone."

Sam could only nod stiffly and stutter out a stilted, "Thanks."

Draco took a step back, either not realizing or choosing not to comment on Sam's embarrassment. Whichever it was the younger Winchester was grateful.

"Right then, I'll be taking my leave. If you find you require anything, Potter and I are in the kitchen," Draco turned and left the room without another glance.

Sam reached up and absently rubbed his forehead, pouting down at his shoes. That was weird. And here Sam thought that he and Dean had cornered the market on weird.

Sam reached over and turned his attention back to the dusty old tome he had abandoned earlier. He had a feeling this was going to be one crazy ride. The sooner this stupid job was over with, the better.

_**TBC…**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the boys!

**Author's Notes:** Okay, this is hopefully going to serve to tie up a few questions and fulfill a few kinks… *snerks* Also, I did promise slash and I need to get it started somehow… Next chapter will have some action, I swear! Please see previous parts for warnings, ratings and pairings and enjoy!

**Chapter Six – **_**Wherein we **__**don't**__** reach the **__**main **__**plot because Harry is a chatterbox… **_

Harry Potter found himself in the kitchen with all three men, something that had not occurred since they had encountered the Winchesters in the morgue. Dean was staring at a flat electronic contraption that Harry had not heard about. He hadn't been in the muggle world in sometime and was shocked and amazed at the size of mobile phones let alone whatever new computer device was on the market. Harry however, did recognize the sound from Dudley's late night game playing and guessed it was some sort of racing car game. Dean was very intent on the glowing screen, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out ever so slightly from full lips. For a brief and absurd moment Harry thought of James playing Wizard Chess with Rose. Harry smiled despite himself.

It wasn't long after Sam was recovered that Dean insisted that they go back to the morgue and pick up his vehicle. Harry didn't like the idea and he was more than certain that Malfoy loathed it but begrudgingly, because he was trying to get the muggle to _help_ him after all, Harry agreed. But he wouldn't let Sam and Dean go together and he certainly wouldn't let Dean go alone. Harry went with him and Draco stayed behind to watch Sam.

The trip, as it turned out, had been rather fortuitous because the car was an absolute wealth of supplies. Harry didn't really like the fact that they had all those weapons within easy reach, but he also made sure the car was outside of the wards to deter an ill-advised escape attempt on the brothers' part.

With his car and a fresh set of clothes, the elder Winchester seemed to be content for the moment but the same could not be said about his younger brother.

Harry could sense Sam's frustration from across the table as he flipped through page after page of a large leather-bound book. Harry was fairly certain it was also rescued from the car's boot considering it was not one of his and Malfoy's, though he probably wouldn't recognize it regardless. He still wasn't much for reading and continued to leave the research for Hermione or Malfoy.

"Something the matter Sam?" Harry asked finally.

Sam looked over at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I can't find that damn symbol anywhere. I'm trying to see if there's any way to track the patterns so we'll have a fighting chance at saving the next victim. But I've come up with zilch so far and I've been looking through book after book ever since we got the car."

Harry saw Malfoy hold out a hand. It took Sam a moment to realize what was being asked but he handed the book over to the blond wizard. Malfoy turned it and read the spine, putting it aside just as quickly.

Harry watched him stand up and go over to his magically expanded satchel. He rifled through it for a moment before pulling out three very large books which he dropped in front of Sam with a bang.

"That is because you are looking in the wrong place, Winchester. If I had known you were so interested I would have given you these days ago. Merlin knows I could use the help. Though Winchester, I warn you, if these books are defiled in anyway what-so-ever, I will not hesitate to hex you, understood?" Malfoy commented.

Harry sent the other wizard a wide grin. It was nice to see Malfoy being so civil, especially with muggles. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd even say that Malfoy had developed something of a fondness for the Winchester boys. But of course Harry knew better.

Without looking away from the game Dean said, "You hex him, I shoot you." There was no heat in it and Harry actually saw a smile twitch on the blond's lips… Harry furrowed his brow… maybe he didn't know better…

"I'd like to see you try, Winchester," Malfoy taunted in good humour, turning to the shorter man. Dean flipped Malfoy off and Malfoy actually laughed out loud. Harry, so caught up in the stunning expression on the man's face, forgot to be further surprised by the sudden camaraderie. Also though, seeing Draco Malfoy of all people so relaxed and free was almost unnerving. Harry also felt an uncomfortable stirring somewhere within that he was not prepared to examine just yet.

Sam looked curiously back and forth between Dean and Malfoy, "You two seem to be getting along." There was only a faint trace of suspicion in the long haired man's tone. Harry's own returned quite suddenly.

Dean shrugged and Malfoy took a sip of tea. Harry watched Sam's eyes narrow further and he too began to wonder when the two men had become so friendly with one another. Harry filed that away in order to investigate later. He and Malfoy needed to have a heart to heart it seemed.

They lapsed into companionable silence for a moment, before they were all startled by a loud electronic crashing sound and an equally loud "son of a bitch," courtesy of Dean. Malfoy, the least familiar with both noises actually started a little in his seat and Harry caught the faint motion of his arm twitching under the table. _Most likely sliding his wand free from its sheath_.

Dean put the computer contraption aside and smacked his hands on his thighs, "Well, I'm bored. Let's get outta here. We've been stuck in this hole for three days now, whatever marbles I have remaining are startin' to rattle loose."

Harry for one saw merit to the plan, with three children and an action packed job he was not at all accustomed to remaining still for so long and he still wanted to get Malfoy some clothing that didn't look quite so conspicuous. Harry had packed his share of muggle clothing so it wouldn't be a problem for him. Now he just had to convince Malfoy of the same. What joy Harry had in his life.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," Harry said enthusiastically. "I still need to get the great ponce in clothing that doesn't make him look like he walked out of a catalogue for Death Eaters."

Malfoy huffed, "Potter, I resent that remark on all accounts."

Harry shot him a blank look, "Well it wasn't meant to be friendly." Dean snickered at that one.

"Oh yes? Well how do you propose exactly that we do such a thing when my serviceable robes are the only attire I've packed?" Malfoy raised an elegant brow.

Harry frowned, "Er… right."

"He can wear some of Sam's stuff," Dean said with a shrug.

Malfoy looked fully and truly scandalized, "Are you completely mad Winchester? I will not be caught dead in those rags."

"Hey! What's wrong with my clothes?" Sam demanded with a burgeoning pout.

"Yeah, what's wrong with Sammy's clothes?" Dean frowned quick to defend his brother's (and by extension his own) wardrobe.

"They'll fit you Malfoy, what's the problem?" Harry asked genuinely confused.

Malfoy looked at all of them as if they were off their respective rockers. When none of them offered up any indication that they understood the blond's displeasure Malfoy actually huffed, "They're plaid Potter. Plaid."

"Seriously, that's the only excuse you can come up with?" Harry asked the blond flatly. "They are perfectly fine Malfoy. Once we get to the shops you can pick out whatever your little heart desires. But for now, you're wearing them."

Malfoy stood and stormed over to the doorway muttering about bloody Gryffindors and plebeian muggles, Harry was rather thankful he couldn't hear the full extent of the rant because he was sure it was not at all pleasant.

Malfoy stopped quite suddenly and turned around, an expression of exasperation clear on his face, "Come Winchester. I'm not sorting through what passes for your apparel alone."

Sam stood, "Oh ah… yeah."

"Okay, I agree, he's gonna look fuckin' _weird_," Dean commented after the two taller man had left. Harry couldn't help but concur.

Harry was bored out of his mind and he knew Dean wasn't fairing much better. They had been waiting for no less than forty-five minutes for Malfoy and Sam to re-emerge. Harry had never known another bloke that took so long to put on clothing. Occasionally both dark haired men would tense upon hearing a random muffled argument but nothing bloody seemed to emerge from it and both would relax soon after. Harry was just about to give up and start putting dinner on when he heard footsteps approach the door. He looked up and over in relief at Malfoy finally returning. When he saw him, he wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or flee in search of a cold shower. Malfoy, despite his obvious discomfort (which of course provided Harry's amusement) wore muggle well (which of course arose the need for the cold shower).

"The lummox does have something other than plaid as it turns out," Malfoy commented airily holding his arms out to the side. "Though these trousers are outright foul and itch like a bugger. What did you call them again?"

Sam answered exasperated, "Jeans."

"Yes _jeans_ they are utterly torn, don't you muggles have any decency? Surely you could patch these at least?"

Sam gritted his teeth, "I bought them that way."

"Merlin… _Why?_ It is all you could afford?" Malfoy looked aghast.

"No… It's. The. Style," Sam's frustration appeared to reach the breaking point and Harry decided to jump in and save the day.

"You look swell Malfoy, very nice in white. And that design is right smart. Shall we get on?" Harry jumped eagerly to his feet, hoping to forestall the diva show-down before it could reach astronomical proportions. Also trying to avoid looking at Malfoy in the semi-tight fitting denims that made his long legs look all the longer and his arse that much more appealing. _Damnit Potter_. _Stop_. He chastised himself.

"Wait, you need these first," Sam held up four pendants hanging from functional thin black leather strips, two looked necklace length the others looked shorter as if they'd go around a wrist with a smaller charm attached.

Malfoy reached up curiously and took one of the pieces, "Is this a muggle custom? Do you all wear identification tags of some short?"

"No," Sam looked uncomfortable. "They're protective amulets and charms."

Harry frowned, it was rare that wizards had to make use of protective amulets, they were usually reserved for children who had yet to master or were unable to use their skills.

"For what?" Harry asked.

Sam held up the necklace, "This one is simple; it will protect you from demon possession and also hide you from their radar. It's pretty common among hunters…" He held up the short one with the charm, "This one is a little more complicated it will guard you from angels."

"Angels? Why ever would we need protection from angels?" Malfoy asked. "Aren't they good spirits for you muggles?"

"Sam," Dean said in a warning tone and Harry couldn't figure out why.

"Dean, they have a right to know," Sam protested, looking imploringly at his brother.

"Sam. Drop it," Dean said lower and more insistently. Seeing the dark glower in Dean's eye made Harry embarrassingly nervous.

"Dean," Sam said simply giving his brother a look that probably only had meaning to the two Winchesters.

Sam turned back to Malfoy and him, "We had this friend… Ca—"

"Damnit Sam! I told you not to—"

Sam looked exasperated cutting Dean's tirade off, "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named then!"

Harry tensed immediately, wondering if it were possible that these boys had known Voldemort… but surely not, they had to have been little more than children when the war was going on half-way across the world and he highly doubted such well-adjusted men would have been hunting and killing monsters as teenagers. Also, they knew little beyond the Wizarding World other than the foolish Occult obsessed muggles that claimed themselves to be witches (which Harry figured he and Malfoy would probably have to explain at some point), though Harry also realized that he knew very little about these men. He saw that Malfoy had also stiffened and began to edge away slowly from the tall muggle, his eyes shooting around for an escape route, his mind catapulting back to what was sure his own private hell.

"I'm waiting in the car. I ain't listening to this shit," Dean stormed out of the house. The slamming of the front door caused them all to wince.

"He's dead," Malfoy said quietly and probably more to himself than the two remaining men. "Potter, you killed him."

"Yes Draco's he's been dead for nearly fifteen years," Harry said soothingly, approaching Malfoy as one would an agitated hippogriff.

"What?" Sam looked confused as he turned his gaze back and forth between Harry and Malfoy. "Castiel isn't dead, he's just MIA… And scary mega-nuclear but that's a story for another day."

That stopped Harry and Malfoy both, "Castiel?"

"Yeah… the… angel we're hiding from. He was our friend, closer to a brother really and he went all dark side, supernova. Dean and I need to stop him, but Dean is real torn up over it and is refusing to do anything about it. That's why I'm not allowed to say his name… around Dean anyway. Who are you talking about?"

Harry and Malfoy shared a glance, no point drudging up the past. "…That's a story for another day," Harry eventually said.

"Oh all right then, well as soon as you put these on we can go," Sam shrugged. Clearly, the years had taught him not to pry into business people didn't want to share. Harry didn't blame him, when he pried he tended not to like what he found. The wizards wordlessly took the amulets and followed Sam out of the house to the waiting Dean.

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: ** Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** Boys don't belong to me, I promise I'll clean them up and put them back where I found them when I'm done playing.

**Author's Notes: **All right! Here comes the action, I actually kinda like this chapter, I hope you guys do as well. Harry's a bit of a whiny bitch in it for a couple minutes but he makes up for it later. Dean was way too much fun in this chapter and I wanted to jump Draco he was so awesome and Sam decided he wanted to cooperate as well which was great. There's a nice healthy mix of all four boys in this. Hopefully you like the characterization, I apologize in advance for Harry's moment and his terrible euphemism. I _swear_ it was his fault entirely.

Please see Previous Parts for Warnings and Ratings.

**Chapter Seven** _– __**Wherein **__**now**__** we get to the plot… and in which Dean likes hyphenated words way too much…**_

Dean still didn't fully trust the wizards and didn't want to mislead anybody to thinking that he did. When it came right down to it, it was mostly a case of survival. He rather have them with him than against him. After all he already had enough mega-powered supernatural badassess on his tail without the added inconvenience of two more. So yeah, he didn't fully trust them but he didn't want to make enemies of them either.

Dean was waiting impatiently. It wasn't until after he stormed off and felt the frisson of electricity dance over his skin as he approached the Impala that he remembered the stupid wizard had kept his baby out of the barrier he had erected. Dean fortunately though did have to wait very long. He was soon joined by the others after what was sure to have been a droopy-mouthed, glassy-eyed explanation from his bleeding-heart-little-brother about why they had to hide from angels. Dean was pissed as hell that Sam decided to put their personal skeletons on display like that but he did understand why. If the wizards were going to stalk them around for however long this damn cult took to gank then they better fucking well be prepared. After all, without fail, trouble always found the Winchester brothers even if they were trying their damnedest to avoid it.

It only took seconds for Harry to open the barrier long enough for them all to pile though. Getting the blond loudmouth in the car was a whole other adventure that Dean had not seen coming. It took no less than twenty minutes for Sam to practically manhandle the blond wizard into the Impala and another half-hour for Potter to assure Malfoy that: no, the metal contraption had absolutely no intention nor desire to squish and eat him. Yes it was noisy and smelled a little, but it was the fastest way to get around without giving the muggles another whirlwind head-trip.

Dean resented both the noisy and smelly comment but gritted his teeth and let it lie at Sam's pursed-lip prompting.

When finally the eldest Winchester was allowed to start the car and drive he watched Malfoy with combined amusement and embarrassment-to-be-seen-with-a-moron through the rear view mirror, as the blond had a not-so-minor freak-out the majority of the fifteen minute drive into town… and Dean wasn't even driving fast.

As it turned out when all was said and done, what would normally have been a ten minute trip took them well over an hour. Needless to say when Dean pulled up against a meter, it was with no little relief.

"Aw Dude," Sam commented pulling a face when Malfoy finally scrambled free from the car. "You sweat all over my shirt."

Malfoy straightened, but, scruffy and shaken, it wasn't the impressive feat it normally would have been, "Malfoy's do _not_ sweat. They perspire."

"Whatever man, a rose by any other name…" Sam shrugged.

Dean saw Malfoy looked shocked and heard Harry let out an amused snort. Dean looked between the three men and shrugged. Sometimes he felt like he lived in a different world.

After a moment, Dean spoke, "All right, now that the chuckle-fest is over… Potter, you get the first shift of baby-sitting Clueless here. Sammy and I are going to the bar." Dean nodded towards it.

Sam looked edgy for a second, but only Dean was able to pick up on the expression change.

His brother said, "Ah Dean, shouldn't we stick together?" _So we can keep an eye on them…_ was implied by the look his little brother shot him.

"Nah, they'll be fine," Dean replied casually. _I got it covered, Sammy_, his eyes answered back.

"I am not 'clueless' and a do not require baby-sitting," Draco huffed, very much himself once more.

"Well, regardless if that's true or not, I'm not leaving you alone with muggles at your mercy. Let's go Malfoy," Potter said quite sternly. Malfoy looked about to argue for a moment before he opted to consent and gestured haughtily for Potter to lead on. Potter did with no hesitation, completely ignoring the sarcasm in the movement.

As they watched the wizards disappear into the store, Sam and Dean realized the same thing: they were left alone for the first time in days and without speaking Dean knew that his brother and he were thinking the same thing as well. _Do we take this opportunity to run or do we stay?_

They shared a brief look.

"The job's not done, Dean," Sam said needlessly. "But this is our chance…"

"I know, I know," Dean said gruffly as his mind propelled into overdrive analysing and weighing each scenario that was now presented. Would it be in their best interest to stay or go? Did they really want to leave a couple of wizards unmonitored and running loose in Salem? Did they want to make some very powerful enemies to add to their already overlong list of very powerful enemies?

Maybe. No. Absolutely not.

Sam characteristically put into words what Dean had been thinking, "We can still use them... I mean the book Malfoy gave me… I've never seen anything like it."

"I know and they'd certainly come in handy in a fight," Dean offered and Sam nodded.

"Besides," Sam said darkly, "if they aren't who they say they are then at least we'll be nearby to put them down."

Though the words gave Dean a twisting in his gut, (after all he was actually beginning to like the guys) he couldn't help but agree.

Dean knew Sam was waiting for his final word, as he always did, (when he wasn't a demon-blood-drinking-soulless-sociopath that is) and eventually Dean nodded.

"All right, we wait this one out. We'll still play nice. I much rather have them where we can see them then where we can't. They have been decent so far, we'll see if the trend holds," Dean made his final call and Sam nodded his agreement.

Earlier, Dean had given both wizards two of their spare phones to borrow with the excuse that it was the easiest way to get in touch of the need ever came up while on this case. Dean was just grateful that they were such luddites that they had no idea what GPS stood for let alone what it was used for. Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped on the GPS tracker app he had downloaded. Sam had finally convinced his brother to get a smart phone after six years of basic and now Dean found himself embarrassingly addicted to downloading apps.

Dean tucked the cell back in his pocket and grinned, slapping Sam on the back, "Let's go Sammy, booze and women await." Dean saw Sam roll his eyes, but he also caught the little smile quirk his lips. Dean took a moment to relish in them just being brothers again. He took a moment to enjoy the nearing of the end of the very long journey that it took them to get back to this point.

"Bitch," Dean said.

Sam grinned fully now, "Jerk."

It was very nearly nine o'clock when Malfoy and Potter finally arrived. Malfoy was looking like a self-satisfied prick and Potter was looking faintly traumatized… At least Malfoy didn't make Potter carry his bags.

"Was it a success then?" Sam asked the two men.

"Yes, quite, though it is nearly impossible to find trousers in my length… I find that absurd. Muggles must be obscenely short," Malfoy commented airily.

"Yeah, know what you mean," Sam flashed a grin. Dean looked at the two men and rolled his eyes, sure he was no slouch but still, Sasquatch and the great white there had to cool it. Dean glanced over at Potter who seemed to be pouting.

"Are wizards all really tall?" Dean asked curiously.

"Most," Harry said with what was definitely a pout now that Dean saw it better. "My best mate Ron is about your height and he's the second shortest of his brothers."

"So er… why are you so…" Dean knew it wasn't very tactful but damn the guy was small.

For the first time he saw coldness creep into Potter's face as his eyes darkened and his features stilted over, "Not really your concern."

"All right, Dude. Sorry," Dean held his hands up in surrender and felt eyes boring into the side of his head. He looked over to see Malfoy glaring ice at him. _Jeeze, protective much?_ _What were these guys anyway?_

"Forgive Dean, Harry," Sam gave the winning disarming smile of his that Dean had always been jealous of when they were kids. "He suffers from foot-in-mouth disease."

"You're a riot," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Let get outta here."

General consent all round had the four men standing and moving to exit the bar. Dean took a moment to admire one particularly Aphroditesque female saunter by in sinfully short shorts that showed leg for miles. The rack on her certainly helped draw his eye as well. She flashed a smile at him, lowering her smoky eyes and turning up red painted lips. Dean stuttered in his step for a moment seriously considering tossing Sammy the keys and getting a bit of stress relief before the big show-down but then messy brown hair, a ridiculous trench-coat and striking blue eyes flashed through his mind and Dean felt sick – all thoughts of milky, firm breasts and sweet curves shoved to the back of his mind. Sam sent him a concerned look which Dean shrugged off, grinning and swinging his keys around his index finger.

"Sure you don't want to stay..?" Sam gave him an out, nodding to the sexy brunette who was sitting at the bar, that Sam too had undoubtedly admired in his much more discreet way.

"Nah, I'm cool," Dean said.

Malfoy turned and gave him a look, "Seriously Winchester, you're passing that up? Muggles are imbeciles."

"Fine you go after her then," Dean glared.

Malfoy actually looked considering for a moment but Harry moved up behind him and began pushing him towards the door.

"Malfoy you will not be flashing your Slytherin Snake about under my watch. Merlin knows you'll be completely inept at muggle contraceptives and father an American half-blood bastard. Won't Scorpius love _that_ little present from the colonies? And what would your _father_ say?" If Dean didn't know any better he'd swear that Harry sounded jealous… And who the hell was Scorpius? What kind of stupid name was that? Wait… wasn't Malfoy gay? Dean mentally shrugged, to each their own, God knows he of all people couldn't judge.

"Oh sweet Morgana, Potter," Malfoy shuddered. "Did you have to mention my father and contraceptives in the same sentence?"

Dean saw Potter grin up at Malfoy a wicked glint in his eye, "Better than a cold shower…"

Dean couldn't help but smile despite himself, it was good being around guys who were just guys again –No chick-flick emotional shit, and no dewy eyed confessions. No bitchy angels or lying skanky demons— Even if they were wizards…

The eldest Winchester took pause for a moment. Dean hadn't noticed when they got onto the street but he did quickly notice how eerily quiet it had become and how a menacing tingle danced over his skin and made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. For a brief-terrifyingly-hopeful moment he thought it was Cas and his stomach dropped but that was gone in an instant as his warning signals went on high alert and the distinct sound of evenly tapping dress shoes echoed along the empty street.

His eyes shot up as the street lights flickered and a car horn began going off in the not-so-far distance. Instinctively he found Sam's side and Sam gravitated towards him. They stood close enough so they could feel each other's heat but far enough to move freely without risking injury. Dean watched in approval as Potter and Malfoy moved next to each other as well, Potter's shoulder nudged tight against Malfoy's back as the smaller man's hand flexed and closed. A long dark brown stick had seemingly materialized in Malfoy's hand, his wand.

"Might I suggest you step up your game, Potter? Though it makes my non-existent lady bits all tingly when you cast wandless, I think a little extra assistance will undoubtedly be beneficial," Malfoy said seemingly casual but Dean heard the dark hard edge to his voice that told him that under all the flare and flamboyance Draco Malfoy was one badass-mother-fucker. Potter nodded almost imperceptibly but unfortunately didn't get the chance to comply.

"Oh my, whatever do we have here?" a smooth soft voice commented as the owner of the tapping shoes appeared under the only streetlight to remain shining. "Why sweet Draco, it isn't even my birthday and you brought me a gift. Is he to add to my collection? A nineth son of a nineth son: Harry James Potter, 31. Lives at number 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England. With sons James and Albus and sweet little Lily. You shouldn't have. He's just what I wanted."

"Who are you? How do you know me?" Malfoy demanded as he took in the young American man. Light blond hair, sharp features and sparkling light eyes. Dean noticed that the shock only lasted a fraction of a second before Malfoy was stepping bodily in front of Potter and raising his wand.

"That doesn't matter," the young man raised his own wand that had not been in his hand a moment before and his sparkling eyes hardened, the smile remaining but so dark Dean shuddered to look at it. The man said something that Dean didn't quite catch but clearly Malfoy did because he said something a split second after and slashed his wand. Dean noted faintly that they must be spells of some sort.

The stranger's eyes narrowed and he took a menacing step forward saying something that sounded definitely pissed off. Malfoy flinched but clearly what had hit only grazed him before he redoubled his own efforts. Whatever he had done had the younger man crying out and stumbling back with a hand held to his suddenly bleeding cheek.

"You bastard," the man snarled. "Drawing my precious blood?"

The man took one large messy swing that despite or perhaps because of the anger sent Draco careening away and into a parked car. Dean winced but raised his gun at the same time; he fired off a shot and heard Sam do the same next to him.

The man turned laughing and Dean and Sam found themselves in a position they were all too familiar with – pinned – with an unforgiving brick wall at their backs. Dean strained against the wall, trying uselessly to rip himself free.

"Enough," Harry said coldly. The wind began to pick up around the five men and the nerves under Dean's skin went haywire as magic danced like electricity in the air. Dean felt his head spin from the force of it and knew Sam wasn't doing much better as he let out a little groan but still kept up his desperate though wasted struggle. But Winchesters were stubborn and took nothing lying down (or pinned against walls as they case may be) and they certainly didn't go down without a fight. Despite that though, Dean and Sam could only watch helplessly, and Dean hated it.

Harry raised a hand…

…The man grinned.

_**TBC…**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: ** Subtle Shining Sorceries

**Author:** Stolen Childe

**Disclaimer:** Boys don't belong to me, I promise I'll clean them up and put them back where I found them when I'm done playing.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, this was really delayed and I'm really sorry but the continuation of the battle scene was not at all sitting well with me so I had to revise it. It wasn't until this morning that I came up with a realistic solution and yes, it is to remain a mystery. I'm being deliberately obtuse. Also this part comes with sad news. Unfortunately, I think I'm going to have to take a hiatus on this one. I just want to make sure it sticks with the original outline of the story and I find it's not coming out as smoothly as it once was. Not for lack of ideas, but the writing itself seems a little blocked on my part. This is the last chapter I've written thus far that I'm actually pleased with. I'm not sure when it'll be back, but I don't want to abandon it, so it will be back.

Please see Previous Parts for Warnings and Ratings.

**Additional Warnings/Notes:** Okay… um… there's a surprise pairing in here that I hadn't intended setting out for, but it set itself up as I was writing and I just kind of went with it. This will _not_ be the focus of the story in anyway and will probably not be explored to any extent later on. It's a moment, it happened. Also over indulgence of alcohol in this chapter. There, you have been warned.

**Chapter Eight – **_**Wherein Draco recove**__**rs consciousness long enough to get thoroughly smashed…**_

Draco groaned as he opened his eyes, realizing –later in life than most— that being thrown into cars hurts like bloody fuck. Draco pushed himself to his feet dizzy and disoriented and thoroughly pissed off but all that quickly faded as he took in the scene before him. Potter was in trouble.

Draco tried to rush forward but the bastard pinned him against the car he had crawled away from only a moment previously. He felt an odd discomfort, similar to a word just hanging on the tip of your tongue but not for the life of you being able to recall it. Draco knew this man, he _knew_ he did. But just when he got a lock on the memory it seemed to flit away like a Snitch during a Quidditch match. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke and the way he cast his spells. But no matter what Draco tried, looking at the man was like looking at something through a fog. You could almost wager a guess at what he was but didn't trust your eyes enough to do so for sure.

As the man raised his wand and opened his lips to say devastating words, Draco wanted to turn his head and shut his eyes, he couldn't watch Potter die.

"I'd like to see you try, Potter," the man taunted.

Potter narrowed his eyes at the man, "No, trust me you wouldn't. I'm giving you one chance to stop this madness or I kill you."

"Ha! You kill me? You can hardly bring yourself to swat a fly Potter. Killing a human being? That's a laugh, really."

"Things change," Harry said darkly, the words of a curse hovering on his lips.

"Yes, sometimes, but not today," the man's confidence seemed shaken for a moment, despite the words, as he peered into the deadly serious green eyes of Potter. Draco had been on the receiving end of that look enough times to know that it was not at all a pleasant place to be. Potter may be short and scrawny, a little bit goofy a hell of a lot clueless sometimes but when it came to defending someone or something he cared about, he was as deadly as Voldemort. Draco shuddered at the thought.

The man's lips quirked then, slow and cold and his eyes wavered a little, so maybe he wasn't an idiot after all because there was very real fear in that gaze. The man seemed to change tactics all of the sudden and leap around Harry to land on both feet in front of the Winchesters, leaning menacingly in and raising his wand. Harry spun, a curse just falling free of his lips but he wasn't fast enough.

Draco's eyes widened in shock as he took in the seconds. The poor stupid muggles had got caught up with them and now they were going to die. An uncomfortable feeling of sickening guilt weaseled into Draco's motionless frame as he watched and waited, the world seemingly slowed down to afford Draco with a better view. He did have to hand it to Dean and Sam though, in the face of that power crackling they didn't flinch. Dean just glared at the hovering wizard with cold green eyes, unwavering. Pinned and useless but ready to meet whatever he was facing.

The curse dropped free of the dark wizards lips only microseconds before Harry uttered his own but then a remarkable thing happened. The minute the sickly green lanced towards the muggles a flare like white gold sprang to life from Dean and Sam, rebelling against it and sending a shuddering crash into the wizard. In an instant he was gone.

Draco found himself able to move again and watched as the Winchesters slid down to the concrete, panting heavily.

Draco frowned, well that was riddled with clichés and utterly unexpected. What the hell just happened? One minute the man was standing in front of Potter and the next he was gone? Draco had a strange itching sensation like he was missing something. Forgetting something and it made him twitchy and anxious.

Harry lowered his wand and frowned, "Ohhh-kaaay… That bloke watches far too many films." Draco would ask Potter what that meant later…

"Dude, what just happened?" Dean asked limping over to Potter his brother close at his back. "Shouldn't we be vaporized by now?"

Sam looked between the men, "Was he ah… scared?"

Draco joined the group, "Perhaps unprepared? But really, we were caught completely unawares and he just runs off at the first notion of an actual fight with Potter? That seems too… tidy." What _was_ it Draco was forgetting? He felt as if he had just lost moments of his life!

Just as they were all prepared to shrug it off and jot it down in the diary as a fluke, a scream split the night. Without sparing a glance at one another the four men took off running. When they rounded the corner they saw the reason for their apparent good fortune.

There, lying on the concrete was a middle aged man, perhaps 35 to 40, blank unseeing eyes open to the night, pool of blood growing gradually around his prone form. Apparently the victim had already been chosen this night. And apparently the manner of death was far more brutal than previous instances.

"He's saving you," Draco said with grim understanding. "Probably for the third and final phase. The more powerful the wizard near the end, the more likely the spell will have desired results." After all, if positions were reversed that's how Draco would do it. You work your way up.

Draco watched Potter move over and crouch next to the body, closing the victim's eyes as he did so, "Be that as it may, why is he even wanting me? I mean, I've got no brothers, unless you count the Weasley's but even then there's only si— " Potter shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment, "Five, five boys."

Draco glanced briefly over to the Winchesters before sighing and approaching Potter. "That's the thing about ritual Po—Harry," Draco said more gently than he would have liked to given current company, "it can be interpreted in many ways. Your ancestor could have been the ninth son of his parents and if you are nine generations past him, then you technically qualify as the ninth son of a ninth son. That also isn't the only alternate possibility of course, but I suggest we move this to somewhere more private before the muggle authorities turn up."

Draco offered Potter a hand up which Harry surprised him in taking. Draco put too much force behind the assistance though which found Harry doing an odd little hop and overbalancing into Draco's chest. Both men paused for a moment, stunned before they were pulled out of it by the gruff muggle clearing his throat.

"Let's go, Sammy and I just got off of the Feds' most wanted list, we have no desire to get back on it," Dean said quickly as his keen eyes tracked around the surroundings.

"Yeah," Potter nodded distractedly. Draco groaned inwardly as Potter began slipping into brood mode. The occasions for it were nowhere near as common as they had been in previous years but still when Potter fell into a state it was difficult to deal with him for several days. Draco never had much patience for people who dwell on the "why mes" and utter unfairness of the world. And Harry J. Potter also just happened to be a Champion at it.

"I swear Potter, you start that self-loathing shite around me and I'll hex you back to England," Draco threatened.

"Let's go, come on," Dean said getting impatient now.

The ride back to the house was in silence. None of the men felt much like talking.

Draco downed what was probably his fourth or fifth shot of Firewhiskey as he sat alone in the darkened kitchen. The house was silent… or as silent as a house its age could be. The Winchesters had excused themselves quickly because they had to make one of those 'phone' calls and Potter had disappeared into his room as soon as they crossed the threshold. So Draco was left to his own devices, a state he was no longer accustomed to as he once had been. The boredom and loneliness got to him quickly and he made a call to his son, but you could only hold the attention of an energetic six year old so long.

So here Draco sat, quiet, alone and admittedly slightly drunk… Perhaps a shave more than slightly if the somewhat float-y quality of the room was anything to go by and of course the overwhelming urge to giggle. No one could say Draco Malfoy was anything but a pleasant (albeit slightly annoying) drunk. But also, no one was here to appreciate it. Draco found that thought utterly amusing and giggled a little as he had so desired.

He took another shot.

Draco turned blurry eyes over to the sound of footsteps and watched several Dean Winchesters enter the room. He took a moment to admire the set of his shoulders, the way his jeans fit is slender well-muscled (if slightly bowed) legs and of course those damn green eyes. Draco always did have a weakness for green eyes.

"You know," Draco drawled in his best impression of himself because if he were being honest with himself, that unsurprisingly he didn't make a habit of, he did have to admit he could only manage an impression of his usual airs at this stage. "You are a very attractive man."

Dean snorted, "Thanks man, you too. Take another shot there." Draco's eyes lit up because suddenly that was the best suggestion in the world and he more than willingly complied with the order.

Dean slid into the chair across from Draco and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table, he squinted at the label in the dark and then looked contemplatively over at the inebriated wizard.

"So Dray, can us lowly muggles handle this shit?" Dean asked.

Draco frowned, "I'm sorry what did you call me?" The blond shook his head, "I dunno, I've never had an occasion to find out."

Dean shrugged one shoulder and lifted the bottle in a toast, "Well, one way to find out, bottoms up." He took a swing and immediately found himself hacking and coughing. Draco noticed those pretty green eyes were welling up with tears as the muggle pounded his chest.

"Jesus…" Dean wheezed out after a moment and pushed the bottle away. Draco watched in fuzzy fascination as Dean pushed away from the table and retrieved his bottle of muggle drink from the cupboard where he had stashed it after they had returned from a trip to the market the other day.

The muggle didn't bother with a glass and Draco saluted him for it, "Well at least being pathetic and together is better than being pathetic and alone."

"Here, here!" Dean proclaimed and raised his bottle to his lips. Pretty lips. Draco titled his head slightly as he watched Dean's throat work to swallow the contents.

Draco shook his head, "Fuck I need to get laid."

Dean choked and spurted a small fountain of liquid across the table, which Draco didn't find nearly as revolting as he would have sober.

Dean sputtered for a moment then his gaze turned contemplative, "Is that a proposition?"

Draco blinked, _Really? He said that out loud? Wait a tick… This muggle? He didn't seem the type..._ But who was Draco to judge, he mentally shrugged. _To each his own_.

"Do you want it to be?" Draco asked a little of the muzziness clearing from his mind at the jarring and rather abrupt turn of events. But then again, Dean's eyes were already a bit glossy probably from the Firewhiskey and he did seem to be seriously considering it.

"Let me get a few more in me and then we'll talk," Dean said after a beat.

Draco laughed outright, not really sure why he found that so amusing but of course there was the whole drunk thing and maybe his naughty bits were stirring just a bit and drawing his already thin blood south of the border making his head feel a little light.

Draco raised his bottle and Dean clinked his own against it. "I'll hold you to that," the blond said. They drank.

They continued to drink in silence for a moment their thoughts in completely different places other than in each other's pants if Dean's expression was anything to go by. And Draco being in his own head knew it wasn't the muggle he was thinking of but another green eyed man who was currently aiming for the marathon pity party of the century. _Damn Potter_. He hated the little bastard sometimes. Draco didn't really know anyone else who could be so bloody arrogant and self-righteous while somehow managing to have such a poor self-esteem and self-worth that he could give a house elf a run for his gold… _If house elves had gold, which they didn't, because that was just ridiculous…_ Draco took another swig of Firewhiskey because he was beginning to make sense again… if not in a linear fashion.

Draco looked over at Dean once more, thought of Potter than thought screw it. It put his bottle down with rather more force than strictly necessary and walked around the table, leaned down and gave Dean a thorough kiss on that pretty mouth of his. Dean kissed back for a moment, before his surprise won over and he pulled away. He didn't look angry or violated in anyway, just startled. Draco watched him closely for a second, but only a second because suddenly Dean's large hands were bunched in his lapels and he was pulled forward for a crushing kiss. Now Draco didn't mind rough and didn't mind this at all and Dean seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment which was always a plus when snogging someone. But before it could go much farther like they both ultimately wanted it to, Dean stood with such violence that his chair tumbled over and he knocked their foreheads together as he rose.

Draco reached up and rubbed at his forehead, pouting in confusion. Dean brushed his own injury briefly before bending and righting the chair like it was a lifeline.

"Interesting," Draco mused, seeing something in the muggle that he had caught glimpses of but was now coming to realize more fully.

"Dray, look I…" Dean drifted awkwardly and Draco knew he didn't imagine the nickname this time. He scrunched up his nose in distaste.

He shook his head, the vileness of curtailed naming was an issue for another time, there was something more important right now, "Dean, really its fine. That was just… weird anyway… Hot and good but…"

Dean shrugged a shoulder picking at the wood of the chair with a finger nail, "Yeah…"

Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but knew it wasn't quite the time yet, he didn't have all the information he needed yet and though he suspected Dean's world had been a little more than shaken by his rebellious angel companion, Draco wasn't sure to what extent.

"You know, stress of the day and what-not, it isn't any wonder really…" Draco waved it off, they were both adults and drunk and it was a stupid thing to have done in the first place.

Dean quirked a grin, flashing white teeth and damn the muggle _was_ attractive but it just wasn't right.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "That Firewhiskey or whatever's a bitch, went straight to my head."

Draco nodded, "Agreed. I think it's about time we sleep."

"Probably a good idea… But hey, I can add something new to my list. Never kissed a wizard before," Dean said as they walked towards the stairs.

"You have a list?" Draco quirked a brow.

Dean laughed, chagrined, scratching his head a little, "Yeah…"

Draco nodded, "Huh… I see. Well I've never kissed a muggle before so there you have it, I can start my own list." Dean chuckled, nodded again. The walked in silence and paused a little awkwardly at the juncture leading to their separate rooms.

"Hey… ah… Dean…" Draco started hating the hesitance in his tone.

"Yeah?" Dean asked turning to the wizard.

"Do you have the feeling you're forgetting something? I've not been able to shake it since earlier this evening."

Dean paused, frowned and thought for a moment before saying, "Well, now that you mention it… Kinda. Weird huh?"

"Yes quite," Draco responded and they went their separate ways, both of them wondering, not of the joint memory loss, but where the hell the earlier encounter had come from. It seemed supernaturally random but also neither really minded too terribly.

Draco had interesting dreams that night… Dean wasn't quite so lucky.

_**TBC…**_


End file.
